Thirty years of marriage, no kids, and far away from her family, Trish is devastated when Ron tells her he wants a divorce because she’s so “boring,” and she sets out to drown her sorrows at a local bar.

But a chance encounter with an attractive older gentleman nets Trish an invitation to a club where she sees things she never knew existed. It’s there that she meets a dark, sad-eyed Dom with a lot of baggage and, to make matters worse, he seems to despise her.

It’s not fate that throws them together for two weeks. Trish is appalled to find that she’s falling for the dark, brooding hunk, and heartbroken that it’s almost certain he’s not falling for her. As time goes by, Trish makes a discovery:

She went looking for adventure. She got a lot more than she bargained for. And she’s hoping she’ll survive it with her life.

That was Wednesday night. On Thursday night, Dave works with me all evening. Everything that I suspected about the man is true. He’s even more gorgeous naked, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and is as trustworthy and honest as they come. But he’s really, really mad when I come through the door.

There’s no mistaking it. First thing, he grabs me by the arm and drags me to a private room. Once there, he asks me point-blank, “Did Steffen tell you about safewording?” The look I give him must’ve answered his question, because now he’s livid. “I can’t believe that. He knows you’re a novice. What the hell was he thinking?”

“Hey, Dave, really, no harm, no foul. I don’t know what . . .”

“Safewording. You choose a word. If you call that word, all play stops. I was watching you up there scening. I know you would’ve called a safeword if you’d known to.”

I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t have. I was enjoying myself. Well, as much as someone can enjoy being tortured. But there’s no doubt in my mind, if I had cried out and asked Steffen to stop, he would’ve.”

He’s still angry, but that seems to have calmed him a bit. “Steffen and I will have a talk.”

“Okay. But know that I thought the whole thing was unbelievably great, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” I smile at him, and finally he smiles back.

“You may have to eat your words,” he grins.

“I’ll eat whatever you give me and ask for more,” I grin back. In a split second, he presses me to my knees, then unzips his leathers. I find myself face to face with what has to be the mightiest cock I’ve ever seen. I get out one word: “Whoaaaa.”

“Glad to see you approve. You give head?” he asks.

“I have, but not well. And not on demand.”

“Well, you will now. Suck me, sub. Watch those teeth. And I’ll give you direction. I expect you to follow it.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good. Take me in your mouth.”

Only about five strokes in, he tells me, “I’m going down your throat. You’re going to choke. There’s no way around it. But if you’ll pretend you’re yawning every time I press in, you’ll eventually get it. Don’t worry about drool, tears, or snot; it’s part of the process. This will be the first thing we practice every time you’re here until you get it down pat. Fellatio is one of the things a Dom desires the most from his sub. It’s the ultimate act of submission, especially when the sub swallows, and it’s the one gift a Dom can give his sub that no other Dom can, that particular taste and smell that’s all his. Some Dom is going to enjoy it from you, and you’ll enjoy giving him this gift back.”

As he spoke, I’d started to stroke down on him, but when he stops talking, he takes my head with both hands and shoves it down onto his thick shaft. I feel like someone has put a foot on my neck, and I could swear I’m seeing stars. When he pulls me off, he says, “Take a deep breath and down again.” He repeats the process. By this point, I’m pretty sure he’s trying to kill me. He shoves me back down over his cock and I gag again. This time, when he lifts my head, I’m coughing almost uncontrollably. “Again, little one.” Just before his cock head hits my throat, I remember to try to yawn. That’s all it takes; it goes right past my soft palate and down my throat, and I want to cheer. Except I can’t. Because I’ve got a giant cock down my throat.

“Good girl!” he praises, then starts thrusting into my throat. It’s not so terrible now that I can let it go on down, and he’s really getting into it. I do hate the saliva that’s falling from my lips and the fact that my eyes and nose are running profusely, but I can’t help that. There’s a sense of accomplishment on my part that I can’t describe. This man has taken his time to train me, and I’m giving him something that’s making him feel really, really good.

After a good five minutes, he says, “Reach up and fondle my balls. Gently. Like you’d roll billiard balls in your hand.” I’ve never heard it described that way, and I try it. He moans – loudly. I take that to mean I’m doing it right. In under two minutes, I hear him groan, “I’m going to come down your throat. Spitting is disrespectful. I expect you to swallow.” I’d nod, but I can’t. His balls are still in my hand, and I feel them draw up just before he explodes in my mouth. There’s so much cum that I’m having trouble swallowing it, but I manage.

Before I can catch my breath, he takes me by the upper arms and pulls me up. “Sorry I look such a sight,” I whine, looking around for something to wipe my mouth, eyes, and nose with.

He hands me a towel. “I’d be concerned if everything wasn’t running. That would be very abnormal. And the saliva is important, very needed, so you need to work toward that, not avoid it. But overall that was very good, little one. You’re a quick learner.”

“That’s what Master Steffen said.”

“I see he also told you not to look your Dom in the eye.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good. I’ll have to thank him for that. Now, go lie on the bed and open yourself to me. I’m going to return the favor.”

I do as I’m told and in just a few minutes, I’m riding an orgasmic wave that takes me to another world. Steffen is good; Dave is an expert. He knows just how to speed up and slow down to make the most of his work, and his hands and tongue are nothing short of miraculous. I’m impressed – and thankful.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” he asks as he holds me after my orgasm.

“I was planning to unless you don’t want me to.”

He smiles. “Now why would I want you to stay away?”

I have to ask. “Do all of you always hold the subs, you know, afterward?” I know what I’m hoping he’ll say.

“Absolutely. I don’t know a respectable Dom who doesn’t.” He must be able to see the disappointment on my face; I was hoping I was special, but apparently I’m not. “Hey, listen, we do it because we genuinely care about you and your feelings. We don’t want to treat you like whores, because you’re not. You’re here, giving yourself to men who love and respect women. We want you to feel special, not used and thrown aside. Let me put it this way,” he says, stroking one of my nipples. “If you ever scene with a Dom who doesn’t hold and cuddle you afterward, don’t ever scene with him again. He’s just using you. And you don’t deserve that. You deserve to feel special, precious, cared for. Because you’re all of those things to all of us. There’s not a man in this club who wouldn’t jack somebody up for calling you a name or hurting you in any way.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, and Dave wipes it off. “Thanks,” I manage to stammer. “I needed to have someone say that to me.”

“You’re welcome. And it’s true.” He kisses my forehead.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, baby.”

“Do you think I’m boring?”

Dave lets loose a belly laugh. “Honey, you’re a lot of things, but boring isn’t one of them. Tomorrow night, I fuck your ass. And I guarantee the last thing I’ll think is that you’re boring!”